


the jury's out (but my choice is you)

by always_a_queen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_a_queen/pseuds/always_a_queen
Summary: "My birthday isn’t for another six months.”“We can push up the timetable,” Ben points out. “I can marry you on your twenty-nine and a half birthday.”“Halfsies don’t count,” Rey says, in a perfect imitation of her 5-year-old self, who insisted that he was NOT two years older than her just because she was 5 and he was technically 7. They were a year and a half apart. End of story.Except then she was trying to argue the opposite point. Ben lets it slide. That’s what old friends do.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 163





	the jury's out (but my choice is you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohemgeeitscoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohemgeeitscoley/gifts).



> Coley had a hard week at work. I offered to write her fic to lift her spirits. She requested "agree to marry each other if we're not married by 30" fic. 
> 
> And then I wrote this. Which is not exactly that. She's still friends with me, somehow.
> 
> \--
> 
> Rating is for language, mostly.

“Have you thought about getting married?”

Ben practically spits out his beer. It takes a moment for him to regain his composure before he says, “To you?”

Rey laughs. It always sounds better when they’re in person, but he’ll take her laughs over their slightly distorted video chat. The microphone on Rey’s laptop _sucks,_ so if she’s too close to it, it sounds a little scratchy. She’s halfway through a second glass of wine, and he thinks she might also be halfway through a giant bag of cheetos as well.

It’s their weekly Friday night recap. Ben’s two beers in, laptop perched very carefully on his knees. Rey is sprawled across her bedroom floor on her stomach, wine glass in one hand, laptop in front of her. If she’s wearing shorts, he can’t see them. All he can see is the giant tee-shirt she’s drowning in, and the backs of her thighs.

“Not necessarily,” Rey says, and even through her laughter he can still see the blush coloring her cheeks. “I mean, I’m not holding you to that at all, and plus, my birthday isn’t for another six months.”

“We can push up the timetable,” Ben points out. “I can marry you on your twenty-nine and a _half_ birthday.”

“Halfsies don’t count,” Rey says, in a perfect imitation of her 5-year-old self, who insisted that he was not two years older than her just because she was five and he was technically seven. They were a year and a half apart. End of story.

Except then she was trying to argue the opposite point. Ben lets it slide. That’s what old friends do.

Rey Elizabeth Josephine Johnson. Two of those names she took for herself, legally. She grew up across the street with her foster father, who was nothing if not neglectful. Ben sometimes thinks abusive, as an adult looking back on her situation.

Rey spent her summers with his family, and Unkar didn’t care. If Unkar could spend the money he was supposed to spend on food and shelter for his foster child on booze and drugs instead, Unkar didn’t care.

Ben never really knew why his parents didn’t adopt Rey. It wasn’t like they didn’t love her. She had a seat at every dinner table even if she didn’t come. She got first-day-of-school breakfasts with them. She went back to school shopping with his mom. His dad taught her how to change the oil in her first car. Both of his parents were references on her first job application—scooping ice cream at Maz’s Ice Cream Parlor and Soda Shop. She went to Sunday Mass with them. Well, until Ben decided at seventeen that he was an atheist. 

Then Rey went to Mass with his parents. Probably still would, if she lived up north.

Except she doesn’t. And that ache of not having her close anymore? Ben thought it would go away. It hasn’t. 

He wasn’t even there to say goodbye. He was… Ben can’t even remember where on earth he was. He was traveling with Snoke. He was trying to drown his sorrows in women and booze and distractions. He was trying to think about not being a disappointment to his parents, to his Uncle Luke.

He was trying to reinvent himself.

And he hasn’t said goodbye. So he had no right to be upset that when Rey packed her bags and moved south for school, she hadn’t bothered to say goodbye either. 

When Ben came home, six years later, broken and trying to reinvent his life _again_ , she was still living in Houston. He moped around Chicago for a bit, picked up a legitimate, steady job building websites for a marketing company, and a few casual dates here and there.

He thought of Rey every day. Three months later, a simple slow dance at Rose Tico’s wedding served as both apology and forgiveness. They sat at the same table at brunch the next day, and after catching up, the friendship was rekindled.

Except for the fact that Rey still lives in Houston. The armpit of the world. The sweaty, hot, armpit of the world. Ben fucking _hates_ Houston. You can add layers on when Chicago is windy and snowy. You can’t remove skin.

“Halfsies isn’t the point,” Ben says. “I promised to marry you if we were still single at thirty, and you can call that in at any time. Besides, I’m thirty-two. I was single when I turned thirty, so technically, I can cash in on our deal.”

“We both know you won’t,” Rey says flippantly. It stings, even though Ben knows Rey and she absolutely doesn’t mean to hurt him. “Hey, what ever happened to Trisha? Or Trixie? Or Tami?”

Ben rolls his eyes at her. He really hadn’t planned on dating three t-names in a row, but now Rey isn’t going to let him live it down.

She clearly wasn’t really expecting an answer, because she continues, “What I meant was do you _want_ to get married? To someone. Someday.” She squeaks out a tiny, “Maybe?”

Ben tries to smile. “Yeah,” he says carefully. “Of course I do.”

Because he wants to get married. Some day. To her. She’s the only person he has ever imagined marrying. 

If he ever stops being a coward about it. From a thousand miles away. Ben’s really not sure how he let his life get this fucked up. Telling her he loves her is pointless. He’s not leaving Chicago. She’s not leaving Houston.

It’s pointless. And it hurts.

And he guesses they’ll just have to be happy with what they have now. Weekly video chats with beer and wine. It can be enough. He hopes.

Ben swallows, hard. “What about you?”

She groans, hiding her head in her hands. “Texas boys are stupid.”

A benefit of Rey living in fucking _Houston_ , Ben supposes. If she does meet men and go on dates, at least he doesn’t have a front row seat to watching her with them. Or, heaven forbid, having to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though he isn’t. Not entirely. He’s sorry she’s by herself, sorry she’s not married at 30, but he’s not sorry she’s not marrying anybody who isn’t him.

He’s quite relieved he doesn’t have to deal with that yet.

Yet. It’ll happen someday. Ben knows it. Rey is too, well _Rey_ , to not eventually catch the eye of someone. He just wants to pretend that day is far-off in the future somewhere, not right around the corner.

“Come visit,” he hears himself say. “It’s been too long.”

Since Rose’s wedding two years ago. When they slow danced and Ben missed his chance to kiss her before she went back to fucking Houston.

“Would if I could,” Rey says with a deep sigh. “Time off has been hard to come by this year.”

Rey just started a new job doing software programming for a little start-up operation located in Houston. She met the owner, Poe Dameron, at her previous gig. Ben daydreams about introducing her to someone in Chicago so she can come back up north. 

Maybe he can if she comes to visit. Sometime.

* * *

2020 is the fucking _worst_. 

Rey was supposed to fly up in May for Rose and Finn’s baby shower. But no. The entire universe is against Ben’s love life. So of course, Rey spends her quarantine in Houston, working remotely, and Ben decides it’s best to get out of the city proper and spends _his_ quarantine at his parents’ house in the suburbs.

It’s the same house he grew up in, and memories of Rey are _everywhere_ he looks. Hell, his black Jeep Wrangler is still in the garage, surrounded by boxes and boxes of his father’s tools and knick-knacks.

They still chat every week, and Ben’s parents get used to accidentally appearing on video calls on his phone when he walks around the house talking to Rey. Leia actually steals his phone to ask Rey questions—How is she doing? How hot is it in Texas? Is she staying safe? Wearing a mask? Washing her hands properly?—before Ben can wrangle it back.

Han, meanwhile, accidentally ends up in the background once or twice, and Rey is the one who asks him how he’s doing (he’s fine, Rey), if he is missing work (no, actually, he’s been able to open his garage with social distancing measures now), and what new tea blends he’s been trying (he has a nice loose leaf chai that he’s liking a lot).

Then, one day in July, Rey mentions, offhandedly, that she and Poe are spending the weekend moving everything from their temporary office into storage. Poe has apparently decided not to renew their lease on the office space and not bother to find a place until at _least_ the new year.

Which means Rey will be working from home indefinitely. And of course, Ben being Ben, he can’t help what he says next: “Come up here.”

“What?” she asks. She’s sitting in the little reading nook in her apartment, one of her favorite features of the place. Rey doesn’t really splurge on herself all that often. The fact that she bought herself a cozy chair, a cute little rug and a mini bookshelf to set beside the only window of her place that has any sort of view, well, it says a lot about how much she loves it. “Are you crazy?”

“No,” Ben says. “Come visit. You’ve been cooped up in your apartment for how long now? Your groceries have all been delivered. You can work from anywhere. Come visit, Rey.”

He can see in her eyes that she wants to. That she misses them—maybe even misses him? “I’m not getting on a _plane_ , Ben.”

She has him there. “So drive,” he says.

“Sixteen hours?” she laughs. “No, thank you.”

“You just—” Shit, he doesn’t know how to say this. “You just seem lonely, Rey.”

“I’m fine,” she says, but she hesitates first. He’s known her long enough to catch it. He’s right. She _is_ lonely.

And, well, Ben’s a sap for Rey. Besides, it’s been a long time since he’s had the opportunity to really help her.

It takes him a week to plan everything out, but by Thursday morning, Ben is up with the sun, his Wrangler puttering along nicely, backseat filled with two sleeping bags, a tent, and a cooler full of food. He makes it eight hours into his drive before finding a campground and bedding down for the night. He doesn’t bother setting up the tent, just ties one end of his hammock to a tree, the other to his Wrangler, and sleeps for a good six hours before hitting the road again. 

He passes the time trying to figure out what to say to Rey. It’s noon by the time he’s through Texarkana, and then he makes it to Houston by four-thirty on Friday night, just as he planned. By the time he knocks at her door, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to say anything. Her apartment door swings open, she stares at him, slack jawed, for a good three seconds before she squeals in delight and throws her arms around his neck.

Ben laughs. He has to take a short step back to catch her without losing his balance, but then it’s nothing in the world to swing her around and listen to her laugh as he does.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Rey asks, as soon as he sets her back down. “You came to _Houston_? And you didn’t tell me? You _dick_!”

She whacks him good on the shoulder, but Ben pretends that it doesn’t hurt. “I came to bring you up north for a few weeks,” he says. “If you want, that is.”

She opens her mouth, starts to say something, and then closes it again. Speechless.

He made her speechless. Ben puts a hand on her shoulder, dragging it down her arm till he can grasp her hand in his. “C’mon, Rey. No more excuses for me? Come see us.”

“When did you sleep?” she asks, still sputtering. “ _Where_ did you sleep?”

“Campground,” he answers. “Brought you a sleeping bag. And our tent.”

She grins up at him, her eyes shining. “Our tent? You mean the one you tore a hole in? That tent? You still have it?”

And fuck, Ben _may_ have forgotten about the hole. He may have been running around their campfire with a stick to roast marshmallows on and tripped. 

“Yeah,” he says lamely. “That tent.”

Rey looks up at the ceiling as if asking what divine power gave her such a moron for a best friend. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

“We can pick up a new one on our way out of town,” Ben offers. “Or we can get a hotel room. I hear they’re super deep cleaning them. It should be safe-ish.”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “I can’t believe I’m about to say yes to this.”

“You know you wanna see Leia and Han,” Ben says. “And Chewie. And…Father Luke.”

“Yeah?” she slugs him gently on the shoulder. “When is the last time _you_ saw Father Luke.”

He gives her a look. “Like not even a week ago, Mom and Dad still have him over for Sunday after Mass all the _time_. It would be annoying if I didn’t like the man so much.”

His uncle. The priest. Who once wanted to bring Ben into that fold. Before Ben went full atheist, thumbed his nose at God and his family and ran off like the prodigal son.

“Why didn’t you join the priesthood, again?” Rey asks, though it’s clear from the tone of her question that she knows the answer. She turns to lead the way into her apartment.

“Wanted to get married,” he says, toeing off his shoes and dropping his backpack on top of them. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rey says, as if pretending it’s all coming back to her when Ben _knows_ that she hasn’t forgotten about his three-year-long crush on Rose’s sister, Paige. “I don’t know, I just thought that maybe you were reconsidering. Priesthood is still an option.”

He frowns at her, eyes following her into the kitchen and stands on her tip-toes to retrieve a bottle of wine from on top of the fridge. “I haven’t had beer in ages,” she confesses. “I do like this new delivery system where people will bring me wine if I pay them, though.”

She offers him a glass, and he takes it gratefully. They sit down in her living room, her in the chair she loves so much, him on the torn grey couch that she must have picked up at a second hand store or something.

“So,” he says, sipping at the glass of red. “You coming?”

She fakes a deep sigh, but he can see the mirth in her eyes and the way her mouth is trying not to curve up in a smile. She’s coming. Even she knows it.

“What kind of person would I be,” she says, “If I didn’t jump at the opportunity for a road trip with my best friend?”

* * *

The drive up to Chicago feels faster than the drive down. Ben totally attributes that to Rey’s Spotify playlist skills. She digs up all of their old favorites from high school, and they blast them in the Wrangler at top volume. They don’t buy a new tent, but they do find a hotel room with two full beds and crash there for the night.

And then they’re making their way into his parent’s neighborhood, Ben is pulling the Jeep into the driveway, and holding out a hand to help Rey jump down.

His mom comes running from the house. She sweeps Rey up in a huge hug, and Ben _swears_ that she’s crying. Even though he’s pretty sure his mom doesn’t cry.

His dad is right behind her, and he wraps up Rey in a hug too. His dad doesn’t cry, but Ben is pretty sure that Rey has to wipe a few tears away as she steps back.

“I made dinner,” Leia says, and Ben really hopes that means— “Meatloaf,” she continues, and he breathes a sigh of relief because that is pretty much the only thing his mom can cook.

It’s a little like traveling back in time, the four of them around the dinner table together. It’s an ache in Ben’s chest. They could have this. All the time. Every day. If Rey would just come home for good.

Of course, that’s probably how she felt when he left. Like they could be happy if he would just come home.

God, he’s a fucking moron. 

His parents go to bed at the early hour of 9PM, so Ben holds up a deck of cards and says, “Poker?”

Rey grins at him.

They use the stash of M&Ms Ben’s dad thinks Leia doesn’t know he has hidden above the fridge as poker chips. They laugh and giggle as they take turns winning and losing, and Ben swears if his parents come back into the kitchen to tell them to go to bed, he’s going to really feel like he’s back in high school. 

“Thanks,” Rey says before they go their separate ways down the hall, him to his room, her to the guest room that’s always belonged to her. “For coming to get me.”

Rey has to work the next day, it being a Monday, but then again so does Ben, so they sit across from each other at the dining table and take turns kicking each other in the shins to try to get the other to flinch on a Zoom meeting. 

Around 5pm, when Rey finally closes her laptop, Ben says, “Let’s walk before dinner,” so they do.

“So,” Ben says, as they start down the block, “about getting married?”

She looks up at him, brows furrowed. “You’re still on this? Seriously?”

“It’s 30 days until your birthday,” he points out. “We could just… just…”

She bumps her shoulder into his. “Be serious. You don’t want to marry me.”

And Ben stops walking. Rey keeps going, and it takes her a second to realize he’s not in step with her anymore. She turns. “Ben?”

“What if I do?”

Rey blinks. Then again. Then, she says very slowly: “What if you want to...what?”

“Marry you,” he says, softly.

There’s confusion all over her face, and she says softly, “This isn’t funny, Ben.”

He holds up his hands. “I’m not joking.”

“No.” Rey turns around and starts marching away. “No, no, no, no, no, you do not get to… to—”

She whirls on him. “You do not get to help me uproot my life, bring me up here, let your mom cry on my shoulder, and then throw out a _you wanna marry me?_ just for shits and giggles, Ben. I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but do it with your own heart, okay? Mine can’t take it.”

And suddenly Ben is praying to a God he doesn’t believe in that he hasn’t fucked up as badly as he’s pretty sure he just fucked up. He reaches for her arm, but she yanks it away.

“You fucking _left me_.” The words lance through him. She’s right. He left.

“You _moved to Houston_ ,” he throws back.

“Because you _left_ ,” she yells. “So what was the point in staying? Sitting with your parents at a table without you? Listening to them worry? Having to watch how much you vanishing hurt me? I couldn’t handle it anymore and so _yeah_ , I moved to Houston. Tried to patch up my heart before I bled out.”

“I’m…” he swallows. “I’m _sorry_.”

He hasn’t actually said it before, he realizes. He asked her to dance at Rose’s wedding and then they both acted like they were fine. They started talking.

They’ve never hashed this out. And they’ve probably needed to. For about two years now.

Based on the pained look on Rey’s face, the tears rising in her eyes, and the way her hand is pressed hard over her mouth, they absolutely needed to.

God, Ben is an idiot. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

He reaches for her again, and this time she lets him. He wraps his arms around her tight and holds her. Her arms are folded up awkwardly between their chests, but that doesn’t seem to matter as she leans into him.

Ben lets out a long, slow breath.

“You’re really a jerk,” Rey cries into his shirt. “You know that, right?”

“I’m trying not to be,” Ben tells her. “Please believe me?”

She sniffles, loudly. “I’m trying to. You came and got me. I needed you to come and get me. I needed _this_. I needed you.”

“So marry me,” he says, not even sure why he’s even repeating the question. It’s just been eating him up inside for the past few weeks. The only person he wants to marry is Rey, and he wants to be the only person she wants to marry.

She draws her hand back and hits him in the shoulder. “You need to stop asking me that.”

“Really?” he pulls away a little, cupping her face with his hands. “You really want me to stop?”

“No,” she says, wiping at her tears. “No, you idiot. I want you to _mean_ it.”

He _does_ mean it, is the thing. He just doesn’t know how to prove to her that he means it. He doesn’t say anything though, just steps back a little to let her compose herself a little.

She glances back up at the house, and he follows her gaze just in time to see one of the curtains on the front window flutter shut.

_Shit._

“Which one do you think that was?” she asks quietly.

“Mom,” he says. It’s not really a question. His dad isn’t exactly quiet about the fact that in his opinion, Ben and Rey are soulmates, but his dad isn’t the type to spy. He’s probably sitting right next to Ben’s mom, getting a verbal play by play while telling her she shouldn’t be sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

Han is also probably laughing into the business section of his newspaper. Because his father still gets a physical newspaper. 

Rey presses her hand to her forehead. “Great,” she says. “Terrific.”

“It’s none of their business,” Ben says. “I’ll tell her not to say anything.”

Rey juts out her lower lip. “Ben. It’s _Leia_. She’s been waiting for us to...” Rey throws up her hands.

Ben just stares. “She has?”

“Ben!” Rey practically yells. “Ben, people thought you left because we _broke up_.”

He just keeps staring. “They what? We weren’t even...”

“That doesn’t matter,” Rey says. “Everyone thought we were.”

Quietly, he says, “I didn’t know that.”

She shakes her head again. “It still doesn’t matter, Ben. This’ll all end at some point, and I’ll have to go back to Houston. Then what’ll be the point?”

“You can find a job in Chicago,” Ben says. “Or I can find a job in Houston, even though it’s without a doubt the worst place in Texas. Or we can compromise and move to Alaska or something.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How on _earth_ is Alaska a compromise?”

“It’s not Houston or Chicago,” he points out.

She starts to say something. Then stops. Then, changing tracks, she says, “I can’t believe we’re having this argument. I just said that this won’t work, and you’re talking about moving to Alaska. We’re talking about two totally different things.”

“Because I _want to marry you,_ Rey. And I want you to believe me.”

She just stares, hands on her hips. “Well,” she says, “I don’t.”

And she turns on her heel and walks away.

* * *

Ben waits on his parents’ front porch step for her to come back, and it takes a good hour of before she finally comes up the driveway, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her shorts. She walks up to the concrete stairs and sits down next to him without a word.

Ben passes her his beer. She takes a long drink, then makes a face. “I can’t even ask you out to coffee.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I mean…” she shrugs. “We never tried the dating thing, clearly. But we… got close? But now there’s this stupid pandemic, and we’re finally in the same place and just… we could _date,_ Ben. If you want to, I mean. But I can’t even ask you out to coffee.”

Ben jerks his thumb at the house behind him. “Mom and Dad _have_ coffee, Rey.”

“Ben,” Rey says, “You’re an idiot.”

Carefully, Ben reaches behind her, pressing his palm to the concrete so he can lean in to her. “Yeah,” he says softly, “But you love me.”

Ray lifts a hand to his cheek. “Debatable.”

Her eyes meet his. Ben presses his luck a little more. “You _love_ me,” he says. He’s so close to her now that the tip of his nose brushes against hers.

She doesn’t deny it. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I want a lot more than that, Rey.”

“I’m getting that idea.” She shifts back a little, puts an additional breath of space between them. “But I think we should start with a date.”

He lifts his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, brushing his thumbs across her jaw line. “Start?”

“Start,” she says softly, but even as she does her eyes drift shut to receive his kiss.

Ben tilts his head a little to get a good angle for the kiss, opens his mouth a little and lets his lips meet hers.

And he swears the whole universe fractures into pieces and realigns in one single, perfect moment.

He draws back just enough to adjust angles, then wraps her up in his arms and kisses her again, and again, and again. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, threads her fingers through his hair, and kisses him back.

“Do we think,” she says after, breathless, “that your parents saw that?”

Laughing, Ben glances over her shoulder just in time to see the drapes swish shut again. “No,” he says.

She wrinkles her nose. “Liar.”

He winces. “Okay, I think they saw just a little.”

Rey groans, letting her head fall forward onto his shoulder. “They’re gonna plan a June wedding.”

It’s July. Next June seems like a lifetime away.

“Can’t be that hard to get a marriage license,” Ben says. “And I know a priest. We can do one of those quarantine weddings with the bride and groom style face masks.”

She shakes her head at him, but there’s something close to delight in her eyes as she looks at him. Or maybe it’s love, and Ben’s just never noticed it before.

Either way, it fills him with warmth. “After coffee,” he concedes.

“After coffee,” she agrees, and this time, she’s the one who leans forward to kiss him.

* * *

They get coffee; then they get married. It’s an August wedding. On Rey’s 30th Birthday. With matching bride and groom facemasks. They honeymoon at Ben’s apartment in Chicago.

* * *

Six months later, once restrictions start lifting for real, Ben moves to fucking Houston.

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure? I live in Texas. Not in Houston. But in Texas. Texas is great, Houston sucks, and Rey's opinion echoes mine when she says Texas boys are dumb.


End file.
